


Her Most Trusted Advisor

by Starkgirlfriday



Series: The Curiously Redacted Files of Cipher Nine [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble Collection, F/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire, spies are bad at feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-01-15 01:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18488815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkgirlfriday/pseuds/Starkgirlfriday
Summary: These stories, told from Theron Shan’s perspective, are a collection of drabbles that will eventually be incorporated into the larger story of the Curiously Unredacted Files of Cipher Nine series.





	1. Things that Go Bump in the Night

Glowing embers floated up like fiery accents to the stars in the Zakuulan night sky. The air was crisp, with a nip that suggested a turn in the weather would soon occur. A distant shriek from an unknown creature resonated in the darkness. The strike team, nine of them in total, huddled closer to the fire in response to the blood-curdling scream. On the eve of a critical battle, with so much to gain and everything to lose, nerves were on edge. Theron kept his eyes on his datapad; he re-ran the numbers. They were outnumbered by Arcann’s forces five to one.

Even with the addition of Havoc squad, they ran the risk of being slaughtered. If Jorgan’s plan didn’t work, the Alliance wouldn’t survive another month. Despite his dread of the upcoming battle, his ears, unwillingly at times, were drawn back to snippets of the tale that Kaliyo wove. He listened in secret, pretending to read the contents of his datapad without absorbing any of the information he was reading.

“As we crept closer, we saw them,” Kaylio sat a little straighter with self-satisfied pomp; she had her audience exactly where she wanted them. “Their eyes glowed red and dripped with blood. One of the monsters crunched on the bones of a severed hand of their latest victims. The Commander threw down her blaster and drew the last of her poison knives,”

“That’s not how it happened, Kaliyo. If you’re going to exaggerate at least do it accurately,” Evie corrected with a dry smirk; she approached the fire with Aric Jorgan at her side. “If memory serves there were two severed hands,” 

Evie was exhausted; she hid it well behind an impenetrable wall of sarcasm, but the mission weighed as heavily on her shoulders as it did on his. She lingered on the edge of the fire with her hands clasped behind her back with the regal bearing of a world-weary General.

“Fine, two severed hands. Happy now?” Kaylio pulled her hands up in the shape of claws; the dying light of the fire cast her skin with a fiendish glow. “Where was I? We were completely surrounded; there was no way we were going to make it out of the Dark Temple alive. And that’s when it happened. The monster jumped—“

Kaliyo turned abruptly and lunged at Jorgan with a screeching roar. The Cathar jumped back in alarm with his blaster drawn. In the blink of an eye, Evie positioned herself in front of the barrel of the blaster with her hands up to prevent Jorgan from pulling the trigger.

“It’s part of the story, Major,” Evie reached out with calculated slowness, grasped his wrist, and slowly lowered the blaster. A tense silence followed; then, one by one, each Havoc squad member barked out a sharp laugh. Jorgan sputtered in disgust as he looked between Evie and Kaliyo, the latter of which had hidden behind Evie to prevent herself from being shot. 

“Major Jorgan, meet Kaliyo Djannis, formerly known as Firebrand; expert marksman, and melodramatic theater enthusiast,”

Kaliyo’s hand shot out from behind Evie’s back toward Jorgan to shake. He eyed it with suspicion, lip curled with disgust, and chose to ignore the hand. Kaliyo grinned with a challenging air in return. 

Havoc squad’s loud giggling grew to a fevered pitch. Jorgan stomped over to a log adjacent to the circle and sat, looking severely put out. 

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Jorgan grumbled as he followed his arms across his chest.

Kaliyo swallowed her grin as Jorgan continued to glower at her from across the fire.

“Perhaps you should finish the story, Kaliyo,” Evie suggested; the corners of her lips twitched upward at Jorgan’s grousing attempts to save face. “I’d love to hear how it ends,”

“You were there,” 

“Yes, but the details of the story change every time I hear you tell it. It’s like a new story each time,” 

“Fine, then why don’t you tell it?” 

Evie hesitated; her eyes shot to the other eager faces around the fire, then rested on Theron’s. He tucked his datapad into his jacket pocket, rested his elbows on his thighs, and tucked his chin into his hands with mock child-like enthusiasm. Evie shot him an irritated wrinkle of her nose, then relented with a long sigh.

“I warn you; I’m not much for telling stories. Let’s see...ah, yes. My blaster had overheated, Kaliyo had a handful of shots remaining. The mood was grim; the beast’s spawn had us surrounded. The beast gave a wild leap into the air. I drew my vibroknife and swung, fully expecting to feel the beast’s razor-sharp teeth rip out my throat. There was a scream, a flash of light, and as my knife made contact, and my fingers tangled into its matted fur, the beast evaporated into thin air, taking all of it’s spawn with it. All that was left of the beast was the two severed hands of its victims,”

Evie’s voice trailed off; the fire crackled and popped in the silence.

“What happened next?” Theron prompted with a gentle, encouraging voice. It intrigued him, this previously hidden aspect of Evie, who, despite her instance to the contrary, had a knack for telling stories.

“We returned to our ship later that evening, exhausted, covered in the muck and gore of the tomb. The night on Dromund Kaas was like it is now, unsettlingly quiet, whispers of fog, strange noises. Kaliyo fell asleep right away—“

“I always do, nothing keeps me awake at night unless I want to it,” Kaliyo interrupted, with a lascivious wink she shot at Jorgan.

Jorgan blinked, taken aback by her forward proposition.

“Go easy on Major Jorgan, Kaylio. Allegiance to the Republic sometimes comes with the cost of a sense of humor,” Theron interjected with a hint of a self-deprecating smile.

Evie looked like she might pile onto his dig, then hastily reconsidered. She jumped back into the story with a stern shake of her head at Kaliyo to discourage any more advances.

“Between Kaliyo’s snores, I heard mysterious tapping on the hull of the ship. At first, I thought it was the wind from the storm that had picked up outside. Then, I heard it again, persistent scratching at the hull, like the sound of sharp claws drawn against a sheet of durasteel. All night it persisted; at dawn, I’d had enough. I drew my knife, and exited the ship to find the source,” 

Havoc had grown quiet; disconcerted looks were shared between them.

Did Evie and Kaliyo had conspired together to create the story, as a payback for all the insults Havoc had paid them about being former Imperials? He wouldn’t put it past Kaliyo, but Evie typically showed more restraint in that arena. To his surprise, Jorgan spoke next.

“What was outside the ship? One of those creatures?”

“Worse. When I walked outside, our camp had been demolished, our equipment scattered in every direction, and at the center of it all, was a solitary severed hand,”

The story cast a pall over the group. Each of them settled with nervous eyes into private memory. Evie and Kaliyo traded, knowing smiles.

“Well, we better turn in for the night. Big day tomorrow. Sleep well everyone,”

 

 

Havoc made their camp in tents surrounding the Alliance shuttle, the rest of the strike team drew sticks over who would bunk on the floor, and who would take the shuttle’s single bed. Lana pulled the lucky stick and did her best to hide her smugness about it. The rest of them rolled their bedrolls out onto the floor.

Theron rolled out his bedroll and smoothed it with his hands. It was a fruitless gesture. He had no intention of sleeping. Once the rest of the Alliance asleep, he would go to work, double and triple-checking numbers, reviewing the steadily growing number of intelligence briefings in his inbox.

The slap of a bedroll against the floor next to his startled him out of his musings. He half expected to see Koth or Senya but looked up in surprise to see Evie.

“Mind if I bunk here?” She asked almost apologetically, then launched on with a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Everywhere else is full,”

“Be my guest. I don’t think I’ll sleep much; too much work to do. I’ll try not to keep you awake,”

“I don’t think I’ll sleep much either,” She admitted; she gave a small muffled groan as she stretched out onto her bedroll on her back. “Still, we both ought to try,”

“Is that an order, Commander?”

“A request from an old friend,” Her voice was soft as she spoke, shy almost. “You look exhausted, Theron,”

Surprised at her concern for his well-being, he set aside his datapad in response to her badgering and eased his aching back onto the unforgiving floor of the shuttle.

Evie tucked her hands behind her head while she gazed at the ceiling.

“That was some story. Was any of it true?”

“Why, are you scared?” She rolled onto her side to face him with a mischievous grin.

“Who me? No, I’m not afraid of that. Tomorrow’s mission has me a little on edge. You don’t talk much about your time as Cipher Nine. You can’t blame me for being curious,”

She hesitated, fixed him with a keen stare, then relented.

“We were sent into the Catacombs of the Dark Temple. There were beasts and several mangled bodies. Some of the story was a slight exaggeration. Jorgan is a good man, but tiresome. It was worth it to see him squirm,”

“I thought I was the only one that found him obnoxious,”

Evie let out a soft laugh as she stifled a yawn.

“You should get some sleep too,” His voice trailed off as a thought struck him. “Wait, was the part about the hand true?”

“Goodnight, Theron,”

 

 

He worked until his eyes drooped of their own accord. They weren’t nearly as prepped for a direct assault as he liked, but going over the numbers one more time wasn’t going to change that. He drifted into a dreamless sleep until, in the darkest hour of the early morning hours, he heard it. The sound was faint at first, a whisper of a scratch against the hull of the ship. He turned over to his side and pulled his leaden lids up ever so slightly. Evie was sound asleep; one hand tucked behind her head, the other reached out until the tips of her fingers reached his on the edge of his bedroll. His bleary eyes focused on the sight of their hands nearly touching; his heart gave a hopeful jump before he settled it back into reality. She’d shifted in her sleep; there wasn’t anything more to the placement of her hand than that. He resettled his head and shut his eyes again.

The noise came again. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was probably nothing. Zakuul’s swamps were filled with creatures; anything could have made that sound...Right? He resettled his head against his bedroll. It was his subconscious playing tricks on him. He forced his eyes shut. The ship went quiet; the scratching started again, squealing at a fevered-pitch like the friction of nails against durasteel.

“Commander,” Theron murmured with a soft, urgent whisper. Evie stirred at the sound but did not wake up. He tried again as the scrapes made another pass across the hull of the ship. “Evie, wake up!”

She sat straight up, disoriented by the sound of his voice, and reached for the vibroknife she kept hidden beneath her pillow at all times. He grabbed her wrist to stop her from pulling it on him. As her eyes focused, and she groggily pulled herself out of a dream-like state, her face dropped down into a deep frown. 

“What is it? Are we under attack?”

Theron instantly regretted his decision. He should have gone and dealt with the noises himself instead of waking Evie up. He’d reached out to her on impulse, and now he would pay for his mistake with humiliation for weeks to come. 

“Not exactly...I heard something outside the ship,”

“Please tell me you’re joking,”

The scratching started again, the metallic ringing of massive claws slid ominously across the hull. Evie started, reached for her blaster, and tucked her vibroknife into its sheath. Theron pulled on his jacket and reached for his weapons while Evie charged for the shuttle door.

“If it’s an ambush, I should go first. I’ll draw their fire and give you and the others a chance to get away,”

She spoke with such disdain for her life, as though what she was asking him to do was something he would ever consider.

“That’s why we stopped letting you make the plans, Red,” His use of the nickname he coined for her on Rishi stopped her progress. “Whatever’s out there, we’ll face it, together,”

“What if it’s a severed hand?”

“When it kills me, you’ll be the first person I come back to haunt,”

He threw in a wink that carried more confidence than he felt as he spoke.

The ship’s ramp lowered to the ground. Evie and Theron stepped cautiously out the platform together, their blasters up, their movements synced as they crossed each other’s paths seamlessly to check the perimeter. 

“It’s clear,” Evie sounded baffled as she tucked her blaster into her holster. She turned to Theron with a hint of teasing mirth on her face, when a rustling in the nearby verge caught his attention.

“Evie, look out!”

A large shadow leaped towards them out of the darkness. Something launched through the air. Theron seized Evie by the waist, curled her toward his chest to shield her, and prepared to take the full blow the weapon on his back. His shoulders squeezed up to his ears as he braced for impact.

Something clattered to the ground harmlessly at their feet. Theron wrenched one eye open, then the other. A stick?

“What the—“ Theron whispered to himself in disbelief. High pitched cackling echoed through the night’s sky, followed by a lower-pitched chortle mixed with a snort.

“You should have seen your faces,” Kaliyo howled while tears of laughter streamed openly down her face. “Come here; you have to see this,”

Kaliyo turned to summon her accomplice. The more massive shadow took several bold strides forward. Major Jorgan stepped into the light with a broad grin; the first Theron had seen ever seen from the man. Evie pulled her face away from Theron’s chest with a hint of color on her cheeks and peered around his shoulder as though the act of doing so would render the situation more comprehensible.

“I might have traded in my sense of humor for my uniform, but even a Republic Trooper knows a good practical joke when they see one. Welcome to Havoc Squad, Commander,”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!


	2. A Battle of Wills

Terse silence fell over the steady din of voices in the war room. Every pair of eyes in the Alliance War Room rested on them. 

“We’re not having this conversation,” Evie settled her arms across her chest with a challenging set of her shoulders meeting Theron’s glare with one of her own. “I’m going after the Gemini frequency alone—the matter’s settled,” 

It was rare that she raised her voice in a public setting; ordinarily, she kept a tight rein on her temper, but this time Theron saw that he’d pushed her too far. 

“I knew you were going to say that. With all due respect, Commander,” Theron ground out between clenched teeth. “The matter is not settled,” 

He was livid, at the limits of his patience. He swept his fingers into his hair and pulled it in two different directions. 

“You and Lana can’t bully me into changing my mind this time. It’s too dangerous for anyone else to go—it has to be me,” 

“Arcann has sworn to behead you, put your head on a spit, roast it, and broadcast the roasting across the galaxy. I don’t think I’m out of line when I say that it’s not safe for you to be traveling to Zakuul, Commander,” 

“Yes, I read your briefing. I’m well aware of the dangers, and I’ll remind you that I’ve faced worse. I’m not afraid of him,” 

“But you should be!” He burst out; his composure cracked. A soft cough at his back broke the tension. 

“Perhaps we should table this discussion for a more private location,” Lana suggested evenly with a look around the room. “And for a time when cooler heads prevail,” 

Theron tore his eyes away from her burning gaze to look around the room. Senya sat a nearby data terminal and pretended to eat her MRE with an empty fork. Koth, wisely, backed out of the room and pulled Argo with him. Kaylio stood in a nearby shadowy corner with her back pressed against the wall and a smug all-knowing smile on her lips at Evie’s rare show of temper. 

“Fine,” Evie spoke with a trembling breath as she fixed Theron with one more withering stare before she threw up her hands in frustration. 

“Fine,” 

Theron stalked out of the room and made a beeline for the Cantina. Days like this one called for whiskey. What had gotten into Evie recently? Before the separation (he refused to acknowledge her absence by referring to it as her death) she was the level-headed one, never quick to rush into danger, always the one to squelch impulse. Now—she was taking risks every which way he looked, striking out on missions with impossible odds without back-up and all before he or Lana could intercept the threat of danger. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear they’d exchanged personalities when she went into carbonite. 

By the time he reached the Cantina, he had resigned himself to the realization that their blow out was inevitable. The tension between them had been brewing for weeks. She’d suggest taking a mission like the one to recruit Jorgan alone, he and Lana would protest, her face would pull into the compact version of itself while she silently seethed but agreed to their help. He dropped down slowly onto a stool at the end of the Cantina and rested his face in his hands. Maybe he shouldn’t have signed on to be her advisor. 

“You’re not drinking? That’s a mistake,” 

Theron blinked; Kaliyo slid into the stool next to him. He stifled a groan. The last thing he wanted right now was to get drawn into any conversation, let alone have a conversation with anyone who nicknamed themselves ‘Firebrand.’ 

“I decided I wasn’t thirsty,” 

Kaliyo smirked in return and ordered two Grogs. She didn’t speak, seemed to embrace the silence. Theron felt a surge of gratitude toward her. His head was pounding; for the first time in his life he was at a genuine loss about what to do, and his dearest friend in the whole of the galaxy was angry with him in a way that might be permanent. He’d never experienced guilt to this degree not even when he disagreed with Jonas. If he stewed any longer in it, his fingers would shrivel up like a Dressilian prune.

Kaliyo slyly slid the extra Grog his way and lifted hers as a mildly sardonic salute to him. 

“To short fuses,” They clinked bottles; Kaliyo wiped her mouth with her sleeve and added: “You want some free advice?” 

“Not really,” 

“Good, ‘cause you’re about to get some. You and the Agent are a lot alike—you’re both stubborn morons. Smart ones, but still, morons,” She smirked at him openly before taking her bottle of Grog and downing it in one gulp. 

“That doesn’t sound like advice,” 

“I’m getting to the advice. Let me spell it out for you. Evie wants to go on this mission by herself, and she’s not budging on letting you or the Sith blondie go in her place. Why do you think that is?” 

“Because she’s impossible; she thinks that Lana and I ‘mollycoddle’ her too much. She likes her independence,” He grumbled into his Grog with a long sigh.

“Wrong,” Kaliyo motioned to the bartender for another round. “You only see one side of the holo. Now let’s talk about you. Why are you ready to tear out that gorgeous head of hair?” 

“Evie’s the Alliance commander now. The galaxy is depending on her to lead. She can’t rush off and get herself killed—the Alliance will fall apart without her. I know she’s used to working alone, but things aren’t what they used to be,” 

Kaylio’s eyes narrowed perceptively; she studied him intently before she shook her head while she let out a low whistle. 

“That thing you’ve had for her since Manaan didn’t go away, did it? Six years is a long time,” 

He opened his mouth to deny it flatly; the words died on his lips. It was his lot in life that everyone in the Alliance base seemed to know about the secret torch he carried for Evie except for Evie. 

“No, it didn’t,”

“So you’re not worried about the Alliance so much as you are about losing the Alliance commander,” 

“It’s possible,” He admitted as he swallowed the last of his Grog with a tight throat. 

“I get it—you lost something important to you five years ago—we all did. And now we have what we lost back—except Evie lost more than the rest of us, and maybe she doesn’t want to lose what little is left—big hint—that includes you, moron. You’re fighting about the same thing, and neither of you realizes it,” 

Two more bottles of Grog appeared and promptly disappeared down Kaliyo’s throat. 

“Maybe you have a point,” 

“It’s been known to happen. And since I’m on a roll, I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse. Jorgan and I are volunteering for the Gemini mission. That way you save face and the Agent doesn’t lose her two most precious advisors as Skytrooper fodder,” Theron opened his mouth to protest—she put up her hand to squelch the effort. “To thank me, you can grow a pair of Choobies and go talk to her. You might find her at that spot she likes on the bridge,” 

 

Odessen’s night air was crisp. Dry leaves crunched beneath his boots as he walked down the dimly lit path with a glow torch in his hand. The wind wiped through the trees, leaving behind the intoxicating scent of pine. Overhead the stars glimmered and the moon was a thin sliver in the sky. On a night like this, with the change in the leaves, he might have wandered down to the waterfalls to enjoy the solitude. In the two years it took to build the Alliance and rescue Evie, he even imagined that one day, he might take her on a night like this to view the falls. Given their spat, it seemed unlikely that the field trip would ever happen.

As promised, Evie stood on the bridge with her forearms resting against the railing, a vacant stare on her face. She heard his approach, the shift of body language was subtle, but he knew from experience she was squaring her shoulders for a fight. 

“Mind if I join you?”

“I don’t think I can stop you. Kaylio talked to you too, I presume?” 

The reply was icy; if the temperature between them dropped any further, he might wind up with icicles dripping from his eyelashes. Evie wasn’t going to make this easy. He settled himself against the railing nearby but left some distance between them. 

“Yeah. Kaylio might have mentioned you were out here. Look, I’m going to go out a limb here and guess that you’re still mad at me. Which is fine—well, no it’s not fine,” He was starting to ramble. He tried to collect himself before he wound up sticking his foot in his mouth further than it already was. “Lana and I, oh screw it, I’ll say it—Evie, I’m worried about you. Lately, it seems like you have a death wish. Why?” 

“I’m fine. You don’t need to add worrying about me to your never-ending list of Alliance duties,” 

The caustic sarcasm was biting; he fought the urge to fire back a retort. 

“The Evie I knew from the days of Dromund Kaas would know that as a point of pride, I only worry about her while I’m working,”

“You’re always working,” This provoked a hint of the smile from her that quickly morphed into a frown. “The Evie you knew died five years ago, Theron.” 

Her voice carried on the wind and drifted into the ravine below. Hearing her say it added extra gravitas to their conversation. What little hope he had left of seeing the Evie he fell in love with ever again faded. Still, he’d anticipated this answer and come prepared for it with a small gesture of hope. He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved Karus Jan’s old datapad—a relic of their shared past, the reason they connected and became unlikely friends in a filthy alley on Dromund Kaas six years ago. In the time she was gone, it’d short-circuited or died seven or eight times; he painstakingly restored it each time. 

“I knew you were going to say that. Which is why I’m returning this, ” Theron dangled the datapad between finger and thumb. “To its rightful owner,”

Evie’s face lit up in recognition with her first genuine smile since her arrival on Odessen. She eagerly snatched it from his hands and examined it in awe. Her fingers traced the jagged gash on the back, a scar from their adventures on Rishi. 

“Where did you get this?” 

“It’s not important how I found it. It’s a little rough around the edges but just as good as it was before. I made a few improvements, modified the tech so that it’d run faster. And I added a file you might want to look at,” She tapped on the screen and opened the file; her mouth dropped open in shock. “I know it’s not much, but it’s everything I have about the whereabouts of your missing crew. I haven’t given up on finding them,”

She swallowed hard as she stared at the screen; her eyes blinked at a rapid rate. Stars, were those tears? That was the last thing he expected. 

“Thank you,” She managed thickly; she cleared her throat to hide the emotion—a familiar Evie move from the past that almost brought a smile to his face. “And I owe you an apology. I haven’t been at my best recently,” 

“I think I understand why. I can’t say I’ve been the best version of myself either. Look, I know the old Evie is gone, probably forever. But is there a part of this new Evie that might want a truce. If you think it’ll help, I’ll even let you beat me up in an alley again,” 

His comm beeped; the tone echoed into the ravine and broke the silence. He gave a frustrated groan and turned to answer the call. 

“Major Jorgan and Kaylio have made contact from Zakuul. They’re awaiting their orders,” Lana informed him in a voice that somehow managed to be critical of his absence without uttering a syllable of reproach. 

“We’ll be right there,” He ran a tired hand over his face. He’d waited for four and a half months to talk with Evie like this; he’d give his right arm for five more minutes. “Duty calls,” 

He started down the bridge. Evie’s voice echoed with a single question. 

“Why?” 

“Why, what?” He asked without turning to face her, knowing with a growing sense of dread what she was asking. 

“Karus’ datapad went missing for five years. You found it. Why?” 

“Hope. I always knew you’d find a way to come back for it,” 

It was a lie, and he almost made it sound convincing if it wasn’t for the twitch of his jaw muscle. Maybe after five years, she’d forgotten about his tell. 

“I can see that you’re lying. Why did you keep it?”

“You don’t know? You must have guessed by now,” 

“Guessed what?” She asked softly. 

His comm beeped again impatiently. He silenced it with a tap of his finger and turned his head over his shoulder, unable to bring himself to face her completely. 

“I’m in love with you,” It rushed out like a sigh. 

“What?” Evie asked in disbelief. 

The wind picked up and blew leaves across the bridge, like an accompaniment to his confession. 

“It’s poor timing, I know. I’ve done just about everything I can think of to make it stop. It’s been like this since before Rishi. I don’t have any expectations, and I won’t bring it up again. But it’s why I’ve been fighting you when you’ve wanted to go on solo missions—it’s not because I don’t think you’re capable. Since I’ve known you, you’ve died twice; I couldn’t handle it either time. But if you rush off to your next fight and get yourself killed again, at least this time you got to hear it from me once,”


	3. Backup

Her morning routine was regimented; some on the base (Koth) called it unflinchingly rigid. She was up by 0400 to stretch, exercise, and read the first of the intel briefings. She preferred to be prepared before their 0600 consults so that they could discuss strategy on the way to their 0630 policy meeting with Lana. 

He was consistently at her door by 0559 every morning, datapad in one hand, two cups of steaming hot caf in the other. Sometimes, they would meet at 0545 and stop by the mess hall for whatever tasteless morsels they could find if their schedules allowed. Time, however, was proving to be a luxury. Since arriving with a lightsaber wound to the abdomen and a Sith Emperor residing in her head, Evie lived for her work, which suited Theron to his core. Work was his solace; he understood mountains of files to review, strategy briefings, supply lines. This new unspoken canyon of words that five years of separation created between them, he didn’t understand at all. 

Since her miraculous return from the grave, they kept each other at arm’s length, almost as though they were strangers instead of...Well, he didn’t know how to explain what they were to each other that night on Yavin only that it was different now and that recently he couldn’t get Yavin out of his mind. He didn’t have the heart to bring it up; the galaxy was in shambles, its fate weighed solely on her capable shoulders. She came back from the dead only to lose everything she knew—he didn’t need to add his feelings for her to her already soul-crushing load. So he buried himself in his work, accepting that it was enough for him that she was alive, and that he could serve again at her side.

He eagerly rounded the corner to her quarters at 0558. His feet were at her door at 0559. Her habit of late was to wait for him outside her quarters with an alert face that would search for the caf and drop with relief when she saw it. Today, she was nowhere in sight. Odd, but not entirely unusual. Sometimes she would get so caught up with her intelligence briefings that she would lose track of the time. He rapped on her door at 0605 with the back of his knuckles and waited. There was no response; his face dropped into a steadily growing frown. They were all quick to paranoia these days; Evie’s life was consistently threatened. Some of the threats Lana and Theron deemed credible enough to share. Others, they kept hidden, knowing that the burden of leadership was already great enough. 

He set the caf by the door frame and slowly drew his blaster from the holster and hesitated. There were three potential resolutions to this situation. One, he would enter the room and she would shoot him for being obnoxiously presumptuous about the amount of access he had to her quarters as her advisor. Two, he would enter the room and she would shoot him thinking that he was an intruder. Three, he would enter and find her dead, either at the hands of Valkorian or some other intruder. He didn’t relish the opportunity to experience her death again—once was enough.

He moved to input his code into the datapad at the door, a safety measure they put in place after she collapsed on her second day on Odessen from her lightsaber wound, and was surprised when the door slid open on its own. Evie stood in the doorway, blinking cross-eyed at the barrel of the blaster that was pointed squarely at her head. 

“You’re late.” He remarked as he hastily shoved his blaster back into the holster; he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment and hoped that for once in her life she would let it slide without comment. He pressed a cup of caf into her hand hoping to distract her. 

“Is there a new punishment for tardiness that I should be made aware of, or are we adding impromptu tactical training to our morning routine?” She savored her first sip of caf; her sharp eyes and sharper tongue missed nothing. He would be paying for his little slip for the rest of the week. 

He scrutinized her features; his eyes swept over her face looking for signs of Valkorian’s influence (another one of his duties that he and Lana swore to take upon themselves without ever telling Evie). No, she didn’t appear possessed, just exhausted. Dark circles and heavy bags sat beneath her eyes, her face looked puffy, her eyes were bloodshot and bleary. Her posture, typically ramrod straight from her years of Imperial training, appeared rounded.

“You look terrible,” He blurted out, shocked by the drastic change in her appearance. 

“Well, good morning to you too.” She added an Imperial tut to emphasize her displeasure at his lack of tact. 

She was moving at a slower clip too. Their tradition was to reach the Force User enclave by 0610 so that they could avoid being sucked into Dr. Ogguraub’s vortex of never-ending drivel. One conversation with him could derail their schedules for an entire month. 

“Rough night?” He asked casually, taking a sip of his caf to appear as though he wasn’t interrogating her when in fact he was. 

“On the contrary, I had a date...” She began proudly; he inhaled and aspirated a little of his scalding caf. It burned as it ran down his throat; his eyes watered in response. He did his best to force a painful smile as he listened with steadily growing dread. 

“...With a holonovel,” She finished with a sly sip of her caf. The seized muscles in his chest relaxed and he offered her a strangled laugh that sounded hollow to his ears. 

“Sounds riveting.” He managed, begging his besieged mind and his now medium rare esophagus to get a grip. 

“What’s on our schedule today, Theron?” She prompted when his distracted thoughts led them into a prolonged period of silence. He pulled his mind away from Yavin with a jerk and his brows dropped into a frown. Usually, she was the one to set the agenda. 

“Well, you read the intel reports, you tell me, Commander.” He reminded her, his eyes narrowing again when she gave a small, stifled sniff. Her head dropped to her chest in shame.

“I didn’t read them,” She admitted in a low voice. “I fell asleep...” 

He stopped walking and stared at her like she transformed into a Gundark right before his eyes. She gave another sniff and dug into her pocket, pulling out a small stash of flimsi tissues from her pocket and she hastily wiped her nose when she thought he wasn’t looking. Every deviation from their regular schedule clicked into place. The Balmorran flu had swept through Odessen, leaving no one untouched in its wake. The base echoed with the congested sniffs, coughs, and the overwhelming misery of its victims. Even their invincible Commander was no match for its might, though she was doing her level best to fight it. He wavered on whether or not to point out that she ought to be resting in bed. No, she’d just accuse him of ‘mollycoddling’ her again, an apparently egregious offense, and she would only push him further away. It was best to follow her lead and hope that she didn’t run herself into the ground. 

“I don’t blame you,” He said after a beat. “I almost fell asleep reading them myself. Here, I’ll get you caught up.” 

He summarized the briefing, the flaw in the Star Fortress systems, how they could feasibly liberate each of the occupied planets one by one. All the while, their pace was slower and slower punctuated by more sniffles and the occasional sneeze. He broke protocol and stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. 

“You know, the Balmorran flu isn’t something to sneeze at.” Ordinarily, his cleverness would have been rewarded with a playful roll of her eyes and if he was lucky, a bump of her shoulder into his. Instead, she opened her mouth to speak with a nasal tone and sniff, and the pun went unnoticed. 

“I’m not sick, you're imagining things.” She unleashed a resounding sneeze that echoed through the hallways. A few of the newest recruits jumped and turned their curious eyes on her. Her cheeks were flushed with fever, her brow was damp with a cold sweat. She trembled with an uncontrolled chill even though the air was tepid.

“You don’t have to do this meeting, Commander.” He murmured softly. “Lana and I can handle it.” 

“Mollycoddling.” She pushed her index finger into his chest to emphasize the word with a triumphant face after he inadvertently proved her point from their previous argument about what she dubbed ‘his persistent meddling’. 

Reflexively, he curled his hand around hers and held it in place against his chest. He ran the thumb against the knuckles of her hand tenderly, wishing for all the world that things were different between them. She slowly started to pull her hand away. 

“Evie...” He rarely used her given name anymore. It was always Commander now, Cipher if he was exasperated, ’Red’, (short for the Red Blade) if he was teasing or feeling particularly fond of her. Her eyes snapped up to his; she noticed the use of her name and her fingers relaxed into his. 

“I—we all care about you. It’s not mollycoddling—it’s...” He struggled to come up with anything but the word that instantly sprang to his tongue. 

“I can handle myself.”

“I know you can; everyone needs backup.” He reminded her gently as she gave a soft tug and released her hand from his grasp. He gave a resigned sigh of defeat and followed the sounds of her thunderous sneezing down the hall. 

 

At 0900 their war room strategy meeting dragged on through its allotted time slot. He made adjustments to their schedule as the team debated strategies and tactics. Evie sat shivering in her seat with her head bowed, nodding occasionally in between muffled coughs, to indicate that she was listening as the conversation wore on. Theron and Lana exchanged worried glances from across the room. 

He cleared his throat politely to interrupt a tense exchange between Argo and Senya. 

“Let’s take a break...” He suggested, his eyes never leaving Evie. The other members of the war council took his meaning and did not argue with the decision. 

Quietly, Lana kneeled next to Evie and leaned a cold hand against her forehead.

“She’s burning up. We should call Dr. Ogguraub.” Lana said decisively. Evie’s eyes shot open wide in horror and over Lana’s shoulder, Theron could see her frantically shaking her head at him with an intense pleading expression that on an ordinary day would have made him laugh. 

“I could call him...” His voice trailed off as his mind formulated a plan. 

“Or,” He paused for dramatic effect. “The Commander could agree to clear her schedule and get some rest. If she would do that, I wouldn’t need to bother him.” He looked right at Evie as he said it with a pointed look and a challenging lift of his eyebrows, daring her to argue with him. 

“Traitor.” He heard her mutter in exasperation under her breath and Lana turned back to Evie with an empathetic smile. 

“Theron’s right, Commander. Policy can wait—you should rest. I’ll see if I can’t find you some tea.” Lana excused herself to complete the task. 

“You deliberately sabotaged me.” She hissed at him the moment Lana was out of earshot; a chill wracked her frame and she gripped the edge of the table until it passed.

“We’re on the same side.” He reminded her testily. He set aside his datapad; his frustrated expression softened as she shivered and curled into a pathetic miserable looking ball in her seat. He slid his jacket off of his shoulders, kneeled next to her chair, and settled it around her. 

“Here, this will help.” 

“Thank you,” She murmured, her eyes avoiding his face as she burrowed herself into the sleeves and wrapped it around her to prevent another chill. Tentatively, he reached his palm out and touched her forehead. The heat seared his flesh while the sheen of perspiration made it feel simultaneously cool. His hand drifted down and settled against her cheek. She leaned into the touch and he reminded himself that it was due to the delirium that she didn’t pull away. 

“Why are you fighting me on this?” He asked with a bewildered sigh as he gently traced her cheek with his thumb. A few damp whispy curls clung to her cheeks and he settled them behind her ears. 

“I...” Her eyes drifted open and locked onto his, her brows twisted with regret. “I don’t want to be a burden.” She admitted finally after a long uncomfortable pause. She plunged on in a rare moment of candor. 

“You and Lana do so much. My being sick will only add to your loads. At this rate, I’ll never be able to repay you both for everything you’ve done for me...for the Alliance.” 

“And you’ll never have to. You took a lightsaber to the gut for the Alliance. I don’t think Lana or I will ever be able to repay you for that. But if you’re that worried about our workload, Lana and I will take the rest of the day off. We’ll tackle everything tomorrow as long as you promise to rest. Agreed?” 

She nodded and slowly stood up from the chair, and swayed dizzily. He reached out to steady her; instantly her hand shot up to stop him with a wordless gesture that kept him at bay. He rolled his eyes to the stars, wondering how a single gesture could so aptly summarize the current state of their friendship. 

On their route back to her quarters, he hovered close behind, satisfying his need to keep her alive and feeding her fiercely independent (he preferred the term stubborn) streak. They reached her quarters; she lingered outside her door, staring hard at the long sleeves of his jacket. She made a move to slip it off her shoulders. 

“Keep it; you can give it back to me when you feel better.” He gently pulled the lapel back onto her shoulder. Long-buried feelings painfully emerged; the jacket suited her. Not for the first time that day, he struggled to keep his longing masked. 

“Thanks for the backup.” She said in a soft voice, staring at her feet instead of his face. He wasn’t able to hide his tender smile any longer; he leaned toward her keeping his voice low as he spoke: 

“Always.” 

Her eyes drifted up to his; they softened at the memory of the word. She spoke it to him first on Dromund Kaas as a promise to protect his beloved jacket. Over the years, the significance of it, the weight that it carried grew exponentially each time they traded the word. The last time she said it was after their mission on Ziost; she whispered it reverently into his ear before making the decision that tore their lives apart. He fought the urge to touch her cheek again and decided instead to shove his hands into his pockets to suppress the urge. 

“Get some rest, Commander.” He whispered, choosing the safest route instead of the potential minefields of confessions that were running through his mind. She turned her head, unleashed an enormous sneeze, and disappeared into her quarters. 

 

The next day, finding that he genuinely missed their daily routine, he arrived at her door with a tray loaded with Flutterplume soup, Tarine tea, and Vesti noodles. He knocked softly and was surprised when the door immediately slid open. 

She was sitting up in her bed, sharing a smile with Senya, who sat in a chair at her side. Her color was better, she looked as though she was rested. His eyes settled on a familiar flash of red and black; his heart twisted in his chest—she was still wearing his jacket. 

“Am I interrupting?” He asked as the two women shared a brief look and a sly smile. Senya shook her head and stood up from her chair. 

“No, I was just on my way out.” Senya fussed over Evie’s pillows, smoothed her hair with mothering affection and gave Evie a small wink as she walked out the door. 

“Did you bring all of that for me?” She asked, looking eagerly at the Vesti noodles which he knew from trial and error was her favorite dish. 

“I thought it might help. I brought some new holonovels with me too. I thought you might want to have a date.” He said with a grin as a reference to her earlier joke that almost sent him to the infirmary. She grew very still and her smile froze. 

“With a holonovel.” He finished in a rush. For a moment, he thought he saw disappointment in her eyes but then she reached so eagerly for the Vesti noodles that he knew he imagined it. She tucked into the bowl with a small satisfied sigh. He lingered for a moment, then stood to politely excuse himself; she stopped eating abruptly mid-slurp. 

“Wait, please don’t go yet.” The plea came at his back, soft and filled with regret. 

He turned slowly and lowered himself back into the chair, reminding his rampaging hope that she probably wanted to know the day’s intel reports or the results of their strategy meeting. 

“Have you eaten today?” She asked; her eyes searched his face with the wry, side-ways half-smile that made his pulse jump. She knew his habits well enough by now to know that he hadn’t without having to ask him but for the first time in months, he sensed a change, as though the gulf between them was temporarily bridged. 

“Mollycoddling?” He teased as he poked her shoulder with his pointer finger accusingly. 

She wrapped her fingers around his hand softly and gave it a small gentle squeeze. 

“Backup.” 

His hopeful eyes met hers and she returned the gaze evenly. With her free hand, she handed him the bowl of soup which he accepted and he took a sip of it one-handed, fighting the urge to grin like a maniac. She reached for the tea and took an equally long sip as they sat in comfortable silence hand in hand. 

“Achoo!” He exploded into a sneeze before he could stop himself. They exchanged a moment of horrified silence. It was a fluke right? He was probably allergic to something...He sneezed three more times and felt a surging chill course through his body. 

“Oh dear. Shall I call Dr. Ogguraub?” She asked with an expression that was both pitying and gleefully mischievous at the same time. 

“Don’t you dare.”


	4. The Gift

Odessen’s distant mountain peaks glittered with a fresh blanket of white; the air stung his cheeks and made the tip of his nose numb. Overhead the clouds were heavy with the complaint of rain. He eyed the weather dubiously; it was like Evie to be outdoors on a day like this. She didn’t seem to mind the cold she confided to him that she preferred it—said it reminded her of Alderaan. More than once, in the few hours she called her own, he’d find her out on the same spot, his once-secret spot for meditation which had somehow become their secret spot for meditation, perched on a rock with her legs curled underneath her thoroughly lost in whatever she was currently reading. 

Sometimes, it was intelligence reports. These she read with her palm covering her mouth while she absorbed the various facts and figures. Today was different, he could tell by her posture. Her back was slumped with eagerness as she poured over her datapad. A small smile lifted the corners of her coral stained cheeks; her teeth bit into her lower lip, curling tendrils danced around her face. He teased her good-naturedly about it—the way that her cheeks dimpled more acutely while her eyes drank in the word of her favorite author Tag L’omel. That had to be what she was reading; this particular smile was unique to the times when she was reading his books. Her posture straightened; she didn’t immediately turn to greet him but her sharp ears had not failed to miss his approach. She knew his step, in the same way that he knew hers. 

“Have you gotten to the part where Hornen sacrifices his weapon to the raging Temple god, Red?” He approached her with his hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets both to gain warmth and to lend him a more relaxed manner than he currently felt. Ever since his ham-fisted confession, the one where he foolishly admitted to her that he was in love with her, things had been...weird. Not in a bad way, considering that they both avoided the topic like the plague. It was more that the confessions sat heavily between them, creating an invisible line that both of them saw but neither had the courage to address. 

“Oh no, I’m well past that, Hornen just...” Her voice trailed off as she looked up from her datapad for the first time since his arrival. He grinned from ear to ear as a mixture of emotions flickered expressively across her face. Part of her was surprised that he had read the book—he rarely made time to read for pleasure. The other part was mortified that he’d tricked her into admitting to him what she was reading. 

“I mean, I was just finishing up reading the intel reports,” 

She tucked a loose tendril behind her ear, a sure-fire sign that she was lying. 

“Uh huh,” He reached out and snatched her precious datapad from her hands before she could react. He flicked it on to the open chapter of her holonovel; his eyes darted to the desperate expression on her face. Oh ho! She was embarrassed by whatever it was that she was reading. This was going to be fun. He cleared his throat, and began to read aloud with an overly dramatic embellishment of his voice. 

“‘Hornen touched her cheek with a longing sigh and whispered: you’re the only woman I could ever love’...It’s a little on the nose, don’t you think, Red?” 

“Theron Shan, you give that back right now,”

“Well, would you look at that. That sentence was highlighted by the reader,” 

“No it wasn’t,” She dove for the datapad and nearly succeeded at tackling him to take it away from him. 

He dodged her attack with a swift slide to the left, and with a half turn, trotted to escape down the trail and back toward the base. Evie sprinted after him with an exasperated roll of her eyes. He slowed his pace so that she could catch up with him then lifted the datapad high above his head so that it was just out of her reach.

“Why are you here, Theron? Shouldn’t you be at a meeting torturing someone else?” 

She made a jump for the datapad; he had the advantage in height between them. Her hand missed by several centimeters. With a cross expression, she folded her arms across her chest. 

“My meeting was postponed. I needed to fill my usual torture time slot and decided you were overdue for a visit,” 

“It’s my lucky day,” 

She gave one more mighty leap; her fingers seized the datapad and with a cry of triumph she pulled it free from his grasp. They glared at each other playfully for several tense seconds before, to his surprise, Evie cracked the first smile. She bumped her shoulder with his a touch more aggressively than she normally would to indicate her displeasure with his antics. His breath caught in his chest. The mood between was so much like what it had been on Yavin, secret smiles, teasing, that for a brief moment, he forgot about their current nebulous reality. His smile sobered at the thought. 

“Actually, you have a meeting,” He changed the subject to prevent another one of their lingering uncomfortable silences. “I was sent to fetch you,” 

“You could have comm’d to tell me that,” 

“I did—you have it switched off. This meeting just came up. Vette has another morale intitiative,” 

Evie unleashed an aggravated groan in response; Theron chuckled quietly to himself. He knew the feeling. Vette meant well; she was trying to help lift the heavy layer of gloom that had settled over the Alliance. While their mission to liberate Alderaan was successful, they’d taken heavy casualties. The specter of their missing comrades lingered. Vette had tried three times unsuccessfully to rally their troops. Her latest ideas were all centered around Life Week. 

“What’s the initiative this time?” 

“You’ll see. Come on, you don’t want to be late,” 

 

The Cantina was packed to the brim. Vette stood with both boots firmly planted atop the mahagony bar despite the bartender’s irritation and protests. 

“Everyone has to draw a name or the idea won’t work,” Vette explained as she passed around a pilot’s helmet filled with tiny slips of flimsi. One by one, each Alliance member drew a flimsi slip, passed the helmet, then opened the folded slip with eager anticipation. Evie lifted a dubious brow at Theron but quickly checked the expression as Vette leapt eagerly off the bar and approached her with the helmet. 

“Commander! You made it,” Vette glowed with enthuasiasm and a bright smile as she offered Evie the nearly empty helmet. “Quick, draw a name before they’re all gone,” 

“Draw a name for what?” 

Evie tucked her hand into the depth of the helmet and retrieved a single scrap of flimsi between finger and thumb.

“For the gift exchange, silly. Sorry, I meant to say for the gift exchange, your majesty,” 

Vette frequently rolled the chance cube when it came to the nicknames she used to address Evie. Evie was so distracted by the idea of a gift exchange that she seemed not to notice this slight breach of protocol. 

“Oh no, I shouldn’t participate...” Evie’s protestations trailed off as she caught Theron’s pointed warning look. He inclined his head toward Vette, who’s face was rapidly descending into devestated disappointment. “...Unless I know all the rules of the exchange. How does it work?” 

“For each day of Life Week, you leave your person a little present but you don’t say who it’s from. Or if you wanted to do a bigger present, you could save it for the last day. Gift givers reveal their secret identity at the party at the end of the week,” 

Vette peered into the helmet and blinked. 

“There’s one flimsi left. Someone didn’t pick a name,” 

“I didn’t see Theron choose one,” Evie remarked in an innocent voice that dripped heavily with betrayal. She arched a brow that dared him to argue. Theron shot her an irritated look. He poked her in the rib cage with his elbow when Vette wasn’t looking. He’d almost succeeded in not having to participate. 

With a tight sardonic smile directed at Evie, he dipped his hand into the cloth lining of the helmet and withdrew the remaining flimsi scrap. 

“Happy gifting!” Vette exclaimed before traipsing off to answer another Alliance member’s question. 

Evie opened her slip and studied the name written in Vette’s tidy scrawl with a curious expression. Theron followed suit, opened his flimsi; the name written on it stopped him short. Oh no! Of all the names he could have drawn, why was he cursed to pick that one? Written in slanted looping handwriting on his slip was the name: Commander Colspur. For all intents and purposes, it might as well have been written in blood. 

“Who did you get?” Evie asked with an impish look over her shoulder to see if Vette was watching. 

Theron swallowed hard and struggled to regulate the volume of his voice. His face wouldn’t respond to his brain’s commands for a more neutral expression. He stood looking at her with a daffy dumbfounded expression for several seconds before she leaned in to peek over his shoulder at his flimsi. He pulled the slip away before she could get a look at it. 

“That’s against the rules, Red,” He managed to squeeze out of his constricted throat. He coughed in an effort to get his voice back to normal. 

“Nonsense. When have you ever followed the rules?” 

He opened his mouth to protest, then shut it abruptly—she had a point. He started to panic. Think, Shan! Think! He needed to throw her off the scent. 

“Fine. Maybe we can work together. I have Hylo,” He lied through his teeth. 

Her keen eyes drifted to his jaw muscle to gauge whether he was lying. With great effort, he pulled the muscle tight to prevent it from twitching and revealing his tell. The hinge of his jaw bone clicked in protest. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously; his pulse jumped. She wasn’t buying it. How did he already screw this up so quickly? 

She threw one more cautious look over her shoulder before she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and pulled him to the outlying reaches of the room. Her unbridled enthusiasm for the conspiratorial aspect of the gift exchange soothed a little of his nerves. There was a new spring in her step. After the heavy burden of their fight on Alderaan, it was admittedly nice to see her genuinely smile again. Though, what in all the galaxy was he going to find to give to Evie? 

“I have Senya,” She confided to him in a low voice once they reached a private corner of the Cantina. “I haven’t the foggiest of what to get her,”

“A new hilt for her lightsaber. I overheard her mentioning yesterday that she needs a replacement,” Evie looked vaguely impressed at his suggestion. He studied her closely as he weighed his next move. “If you had Hylo, what would you get for her?” 

“A more trustworthy partner,” Evie quipped with sly look at Gault, who was currently cheating his way through a game of Sabacc at a nearby table. “But value is in the eye of the beholder I suppose,” The look in her eye was distant as Hylo slipped into the booth beside Gault and gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek. “If I were you, I would consider what Hylo values, and where she spends her time. There’s an answer there somewhere,” 

“That’s not very helpful. I gave you an actual suggestion. You gave me a riddle to solve,” 

“And you interrupted my reading time. I believe that makes us even,” 

Theron opened his mouth to fire back a playful retort when his brain latched onto a single word of her last sentence—reading. Of course! Why didn’t he think of it earlier? An idea for a gift popped into his head. It was perfect. Of course, it would take some arrangements on his part and his idea hinged on several moving pieces. Evie’s comm beeped to interrupt the silence. Koth’s voice boomed into their corner of the room. 

“Commander, if you have a minute, there’s something you should look at on the Gravestone,” 

“I’m on my way,” 

Evie gave his shoulder a patronizing pat as she quietly slipped away. If Vette’s objective was to get their illustrious Commander to smile the initiative was already a huge success. Theron waited until Evie disappeared through the doorway of the marketplace before he frantically pulled out his datapad. It was a long shot, but would be worth the effort to see the look on Evie’s face if it worked. He flicked on the datapad and went to work. 

 

Over the next four days, Evie set her mind to three tasks: leaving small trinkets for Senya to find, composing elaborate conspiracy theories about the identity of her own gift giver, and helping Theron come up with the perfect gift for Hylo. The Life Week celebration would take place later that evening in the Cantina. Vette had worked herself into a frenzy to make it sparkle with holographic decorations. The kitchen staff worked over time to prep a delicious feast. Around the Alliance base, spirits were high. 

“You still haven’t found a gift for Hylo?” Evie exclaimed as Theron handed her a steaming cup of their traditional morning Caf. 

He winced as her voice carried through the hallways. They were mid-way through their usual route to the Alliance War Room, when Evie’s outburst caught the attention of Sana Rae and the other Force Enclave users. 

“Shhhhh, Evie, keep your voice down,” He hissed as he took her by the elbow to lead her away from the twenty pairs of prying eyes. “I’ve got something in the works, I’m just ironing out a few of the details,” 

“That sounds suspiciously like you have no plan and that you intend to wing it,” 

“Wow, you know me so well. But this time is different—I have something special planned. And I think she’ll like it,” 

Evie stopped mid-sip to scrutinize his face. 

“You’re up to something,” Evie pronounced decisively. He schooled his features to be a picture of innocence. 

“What about you? Any luck guessing the identity of your mystery giver?” 

If she noticed the abrupt change in subject, she chose to let it slide. 

“Unfortunately no. Curiously, I haven’t received anything. I’m starting to think that my person may have forgotten, which narrows my list of suspects down to two people,” She paused for effect, Theron gulped down a larger amount of Caf than was necessary, waiting with baited breath for her to guess his secret. “Vette or Gault,” 

Theron sighed in relief into his Caf. He smiled a little at the logic behind her hypothesis. Gault was far less absent-minded as he was clever about putting his work load onto unsuspecting Alliance members. Vette was so distracted by preparing for the evening’s festivities that she’d scarcely slept for three days. Both were likely suspects; Theron felt a little smug that Cipher Nine, the intelligence operative known for ferreting out the galaxy’s darkest secrets had not guessed his identity. 

“For what it’s worth in your situation, my credits are on Gault,” Theron whispered as they rounded the corner in to the War Room. Theron pulled out his datapad and reviewed his messages. Aha! There it was—confirmation. He exhaled a loud sigh of relief; his lips pulled upward into a slow smile. 

“I need to take care of this,” 

“What’s this?” 

“A new potential recruit. I’ll know more after our meeting. I’ll see you tonight,” 

 

The Cantina glittered with the hues from the Holo-Trees that lined the perimeter of the room. Beverages of many varieties flowed freely, more than a few Alliance members were wrapped in each other’s arms making choices that they would inevitably regret the following morning. Theron scanned the scene; good—all prepped. His surprise was waiting for Evie in the next room. He was so far ahead of schedule that he even had time to order his favorite Whiskey from the bar. Everything was going to plan, at least it was, until Evie entered the room. 

She was dressed more formally than usual, in a green dress that complimented her hair and swept off her shoulders. Her hair was loose, a style she was less inclined to wear of late. He took a long swallow of his Whiskey to focus his mind. In moments like tonight, he found it more of a challenge to tell himself that he wasn’t still horribly in love with her. 

Behind him, Vette had stormed up to the make-shift stage and was gesturing for quiet. 

“It’s time to reveal the final gifts. On your mark, get set, give those gifts!” 

There was a flurry of activity around the room as gift exchanges started happening at a rapid rate. Evie crossed over to Senya with a box in her hand and a wide smile on her face. Theron watched as the exhausted lines on Senya’s face lifted with amazement. She pulled the elaborately engraved hilt from the box while blinking back tears. Without warning, Senya reached out and pulled Evie into a tight hug while she smoothed Evie’s hair with motherly affection. Evie went stiff; public displays made her extraordinarily uncomfortable, then to his amazement, she softened and returned the embrace with a tight one of her own. A soft cough at his back caught his attention. He tore his attention away from the touching scene and came face to face with Lana. 

“Let me guess, there’s a new fire we need to put out on a planet we need to rescue. Give me a minute; I’ll grab my datapad,” 

“Shockingly that’s not why I’m here,” For the first time in months, Lana favored him with a smile instead of a frown. “I’m here to give you a gift,” 

“I thought we agreed we weren’t exchanging...oh...wait, you’re my giver?” 

“As intelligent as you ocassionally are, Theron, you really aren’t very observant. I gave you several clues,” 

“Was that my gift?” 

“No, this is: I’m giving you the day off tomorrow. I’ve already reshuffled your meetings and picked up your tasks. There’s a new bottle of Whiskey waiting for you in your quarters and I’ve re-routed your comm calls so that they’ll be sent to me,” 

“Wow, this is-wow, thanks!” Theron managed with wide-eyed wonder. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a day off. There were a few hours here and there but an entire day...he didn’t know what to do with all that time. “But are sure about that? That’s a big load to carry on your own,” 

“I spoke with the Commander and she’s agreed to help divvy the tasks with me. In fact, she was the one that suggested the Whiskey,” Lana’s attention was diverted by a bright streak of blue. “Oh dear, Koth’s going after the roast again. I’d better stop him or there won’t be any left,” Lana stepped away quickly to intercept him. 

The center of the room cleared; music blared from the juke box. Revelers eagerly grabbed their partners and pulled them out onto the floor to dance. Theron spotted Evie sitting quietly in one of the corner booths with a drink in her hand and a thoughtful expression on her face. He took one last swig of his Whiskey. It was time. An electric jolt of nerves shocked his system. Why was he nervous about this? It was just an exchange—all the other members of the Alliance had revealed their gifts and moved into the rest of the night’s festivities. 

“It seems like Vette’s initiviative is a huge success,” He remarked in an off-handed way with his shoulder pressed into the corner of the booth. “I haven’t seen the Alliance this happy since...actually, I don’t think I’ve seen them happy,” 

“Yes, Vette really outdid herself this time. She deserves a week off,” Evie tilted her head to the left, where Vette sat with her cheek pressed against the bar, her hand curled around an untouched drink, sound asleep. 

“Speaking of time off, I suppose I have you to thank for giving Lana the idea about my present,” 

“She did most of the work—I might have made one or two suggestions. Besides, you deserve it,” 

“I don’t know about that. Speaking of presents, I can’t help but notice that you seem to be missing one,” 

Evie chuckled to herself and cast a furtive look for Vette and Gault. Hylo and Gault were nowhere to be found, Theron had a sneaking suspicion as to why. 

“I don’t want to wake Vette up. Besides, it must be a little intimidating to have the Alliance Commander as your gift assignment,” 

“Terrifying,” Theron returned with a dry teasing smile. “How about this: to make sure you don’t go empty handed: what would you say if I bought you a drink? We could go into that room over there and talk about the ending of The Darkest Temple,” 

“You finished it?” She chirped; she was half way onto her feet with enthusiasm. She’d taken his bait. “But you hate reading,” 

“I don’t; if you keep sounding surprised that I pick up a holonovel every now and then in my spare time, I might choose to hate reading just to spite you,” They were close—Evie’s surprise was waiting for her at the smallest table next to the door in the next room. “Why don’t you go ahead and grab us a table, I’ll get the drinks,” 

The drinks, of course, were a ruse on his part. She flitted past him eagerly to find them a table, Theron followed softly behind, struggling to smother a grin. At the entrance to the side room, Evie stopped abruptly. Her head tilted sharply to the right in the way that it did when she was processing information she couldn’t quite believe she was seeing. 

“It can’t be,” Evie whispered to herself as she took two staggering steps forward. She blinked three times in succession as though she might have imagined the rotund, white-bearded visage sitting at the table in front of them. Evie pinched herself to awaken herself from a dream before she turned to Theron in shock. “Is that Tag L’omel? Theron—that’s Tag L’omel,”

Theron tucked his hands into his jacket pockets to help disguise his excitement with a layer of cool indifference. Her reaction to his gift was so much better than what he imagined it would be.

“Yes, I know,” 

“What? How? What is Tag L’omel doing here?” 

“Happy Life Week, Red,” 

“You?” Evie’s jaw dropped open on its hinge as she regarded him with wide-eyed wonder. 

“Me,” He acknowledged with a sly grin. “As it turns out, he’s a big fan of your work against Arcann. He wrote me a message a few months ago asking to interview you. At the time, it didn’t seem like a priority so I put it off. He’s thinking about writing a novel about some of your adventures. Though you should probably stop staring at him and go talk to him,” 

He gave her shoulder a nudge with his. It was all the encouragment she needed. She took the stairs two at a time with the grace of a newborn sleen with her hand extended out to Tag L’omel. She stumbled over words, a furious flush rushed to her pale cheeks, and as she shook his hand, he caught a slight tremor in her fingertips as she pulled her hand away from his with a star struck expression. Then, as she sat down, and Tag engaged her with a question, Theron saw it—joy, pure, effervescent, and unadulterated radiating from the blistering smile that she threw briefly in his direction. Theron softened; the hours of messages, background investigations, hidden hyperspace flight paths—all of the work was worth it for this one smile. He unleashed a small sigh as he grappled with the all too familiar ache of longing in his hollow feeling chest. Theron backed away quietly and slipped out of the cantina to take a walk and bury his heart. 

A brisk cold wind knocked him back as he crossed the open walk-way to the War room. His ears detected a crunch of something foreign beneath his boots. Surprised, he looked up from his musings, to behold a glorious slight. Soft flakes of snow swirled in every direction from the sky. 

“Wow,” He breathed aloud to himself without meaning to. The snow had never reached the Alliance base before. It’d always stayed distant and clung to the mountains. Beguiled, he reached his hand out to let the icy droplets gather and melt in his hand. He lingered this way for a few seconds before he heard it; the crunch of the snow and the pattern of the steps that unmistakably belonged to Evie. He brushed the snow off his palm and turned.

“Careful, it’s icy right there,” He warned as her feet slid underneath her. He crossed to her with sliding boots and offered her his hand to prevent her from falling. “What are you doing out here, Red? Shouldn’t you be giving Tag L’omel your life’s story?” 

“There isn’t much to tell,” She said as she clung to his arm to prevent herself from sliding. “Besides, he’s turned in for the evening. He said that he took an unnecessarily roundabout route to get to Odessen at the insistence of one of my paranoid advisors. I guess the trip took it’s toll,” She shivered a little as she looked up to the sky with delight and let the snowflakes fall on her cheeks. “I’ve always loved the snow,” 

“I remember; you told me on the day we met that you wanted to retire someplace where it snows,” 

The fact slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Her eyes went wide with surprise.

“That’s right, I did. That was years ago. You remember that?” 

“I remember everything,” 

She shivered again and wrapped her arms more tightly around her body. He blinked; ordinarily logical Evie would have quietly excused herself to go back inside where the thermal heaters were raging with heat, but tonight, she chose to linger with him. Large goosebumps accompanied the freckles on her bare shoulders. 

“Here,” He murmured softly. “It’s cold, you should take my jacket,” 

He slid it off his shoulders, lifted it high above her head, and settled it around her shoulders. Evie opened her mouth to protest, then, as she felt the protection and lingering warmth of the leatheris, reconsidered and burrowed more deeply into the crevices. Her shivering slowed.

“That’s much better,” She admitted with her eyes fixed on the way that the sleeves hung well over her hands. 

“It wouldn’t be a good look if one of your paranoid advisors allowed the Commander of the Alliance to catch the Balmorran Flu again. I’m pretty sure Lana would never let me hear the end of it,” His sardonic smile faded; Evie was staring at him with a peculiar look of indecision.

“Theron, your gift... It was...that was...I don’t know what to say...”

Theron felt a surge of disappointment. The gift was too much. Or maybe she’d sensed his lingering feelings for her? He opened his mouth to give a hasty explanation when Evie’s hands seized his cheeks. She closed the space between them and seared his freezing lips with a lingering kiss that burned. Electric shock tore through his system; every muscle in his body froze in disbelief—this couldn’t be happening. It must be a mistake; she’d probably had too much to drink at the party. Then, as he searched his mind, he hadn’t seen her drink anything at all. He couldn’t breathe; his heart jumped inside of his chest. 

“Thank you,” She whispered softly against his lips. 

He struggled to find his voice and when he did, it came out strangled and hoarse. 

“Does that mean that you liked it?” 

“It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” 

They locked eyes; Theron’s mind was a whirl with questions. 

“We should probably talk about...” They both blurted out at the same time, a habit of theirs that started on Manaan. 

“You go first,” He whispered with a soft laugh. 

“We can talk about it later. Right now,” Evie took a small step forward, wrapped her arms around his back, settled her cheek against his chest and sighed in contentment. “Let’s enjoy the snow,”


End file.
